


Stay With Me

by Brihna



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, Angst, I mean heavily implied, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, OR IS IT, One Shot, Unrequited Love, this is the closest I can get to smut guys sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brihna/pseuds/Brihna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not as if Q had never had a one night stand; one in which his partner had vacated by the time he awoke the next morning. It might have stung a little, but he always got over it. It wasn't a big deal... right? So why did it hurt so much this time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay With Me

**Author's Note:**

> This story was wholly inspired by the song "Stay With Me" by Sam Smith. The first time I heard this song all I could think about was these two idiots and I died of feels. Because I'm a sadist and stuck in 00Q hell with no hope of escape, I thought I'd share this little one shot that has been eating a hole in my brain.
> 
> If you haven't heard the song, you should go listen to it! (How do I link things in here?? I'm special...) Then read this fic and come cry with me. ;_;

Stupid. How could he have been so fucking stupid? As Q lay naked in his empty bed, he knew he only had himself to blame.

It was Moneypenny's birthday and he had agreed to go out for drinks. After all, she was his best friend; and- miraculously- no one had to be in to work the next morning. To say he'd been surprised to see Bond at the little pub they'd holed themselves up in would be an understatement. But one impish grin from Moneypenny after she'd greeted the man and he knew. After all, she'd been trying to set him up for months now and- in spite of his best efforts- it was no secret, to Moneypenny at least, that he had developed a massive crush on Bond. One he was sure would never be returned in a million years. Until the blue-eyed devil had started flirting with him.

He could blame it on the alcohol, or the fact that it had been _so fucking long_ since he'd had anyone that he didn't think things through. They had found a secluded corner and the next thing he knew, Bond was kissing him breathless- and, _oh_ , the things he could do with that mouth. Then Q had taken him home.

James Bond had quite a reputation as a lover, and in this he was not disappointed. If the little voice in his head was screaming that this was a terrible mistake, it was thoroughly drowned out by his own screams of pleasure and the way he saw stars in a way that he'd never thought possible. They'd lain in the afterglow, exchanging lazy kisses, and Q was so wrecked that it wasn't long before he started to drift off.

"You can stay," he'd said, finding James's hand in the darkness, "if you want." And he'd fallen asleep.

A quick check of a few systems on his phone told Q that he was alone in the house, save the two cats curled on the living room sofa. It was after three in the morning. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the sudden ache in his chest that seeped into his bones, leaving him feeling cold. He sat up slowly, retrieving his pants from the bedroom floor and slipping into them. He rummaged through drawers until he found a worn t-shirt and pajama bottoms and slipped into the bathroom.

When he emerged, his phone was lit up on the bedside table. A text from Moneypenny.

_So is James Bond as good as they say he is?? Don't deny it! I know you took him home. ;) xoxo_

Q sighed as he crawled back into bed. He swiped the screen to send his reply.

_I'd rather not talk about it. - Q_

His phone rang a minute later. He raised it to his ear with a groan. "Moneypenny, do you have any idea what time it is?"

 _"You're still up, aren't you?"_ she chuckled over the line. _"Come on, Q, spill it! Did you shag him?"_

"Yes! Okay? Are you happy?" said Q, his nerves fraying. "I've just had the most spectacular sex of my life with James fucking Bond."

Moneypenny was practically squealing in delight. _"Oh my god, I knew it! Q, you little minx! I knew you could-"_

"Eve."

There was a long pause. _"Is he still there?"_

Q sighed, allowing his eyes to fall closed. "No," he breathed. "And, like I said; I don't want to talk about it."

 _"Oh,"_ said Moneypenny, finally catching on. _"Q, darling, I'm so sorry. Did he just-?"_

"Eve, I really really don't want to talk about it, alright?" he cut in. "And don't you dare say a word to him- or anyone else for that matter or I'll never speak to you again."

She sighed. _"Alright. Get some sleep, sweetheart. Text me if you need anything, okay?"_

He closed his eyes. "Okay. Goodnight, Moneypenny."

_"Goodnight, love."_

He set his phone back down on the nightstand and curled on his side, drawing the blankets up over his shoulders. As hot tears slipped silently onto the pillow, he soon fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

How could he have been so fucking stupid?

James Bond had had more than his fair share of one night stands; some with coworkers. But the Quartermaster of MI6? What the fuck was he thinking? Perhaps it was that sudden dose of reality- after what was, he had to admit, the best sex he'd had in a long time- that drove him to slip silently from the house in the middle of the night after Q fell asleep. He would spare them both having to face it in the morning. Yes, that was it. It had nothing to do with the fact that he may have actually _felt something_ for the beautiful man who had fallen asleep holding his hand.

"You can stay, if you want," Q had said with something akin to- what? Hope? No, of course not. He was simply being polite to the man he'd let share his bed. And while some selfish part of his brain had said, _god, yes,_ he'd left at the first chance. It wasn't fear; he didn't run away. It was- practical. The right thing to do. But then he wondered why he felt like such an arse.

Monday morning solidified this feeling when he reported in to MI6. He'd gone up to Mallory's- _M's_ \- office to tie off a couple of loose ends from his latest mission. The greeting he'd received from Moneypenny had been rather… frigid. He didn't have time to question her as M had called him inside.

But that didn't stop him on the way out.

He sat on the edge of her desk, flashing his most charming smile. "Ms. Moneypenny, I get the distinct impression that you're cross with me," he said, "and I haven't the faintest idea why. It's been months since I've caused an international incident."

She looked up from her laptop to fix him with an icy glare. She folded her arms on top of the desk, choosing her next words carefully. "While I would love to berate you for your latest transgressions in detail, a certain _someone_ \- who I care very much about- has asked me not to talk about it."

Bond cringed inwardly. "This is about Q, isn't it?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," she answered. "But I can say this; James Bond, you are a _complete arse._ "

He gave a short nod and stood, straightening his jacket. "I'll go talk to him."

"I should hope so," said Moneypenny. "But not while he's working. And, 007, if you tell him I've said a word I _will_ shoot you. Again!"

He was already halfway out the door. "Understood, Ms. Moneypenny," he smirked, not turning around.

Q-branch was bustling with activity as James strode in. He managed to startle a few minions, too preoccupied to have noticed him right away, and soon had the present location of their Quartermaster. He wandered deeper into the branch until he spotted Q hunched over a workbench, soldering iron in hand amidst a tangle of wires James couldn't imagine anyone sorting out.

"Good morning, Q," he greeted as he approached, announcing his presence so as not to startle the Quartermaster whilst he was elbow deep in a delicate project.

Q tensed, eyes widening marginally, but he quickly recovered himself. "Ah, 007." He set his tools carefully to the side and stepped around the workbench. "Are you here for a kit? I don't recall being notified that you had a mission."

"No, Q, nothing yet," he answered, halting his approach a good four feet away and slipping his hands in his pockets. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Very well," said Q, folding his hands in front of him. "What can I do for you, 007?"

Bond stepped a little closer, his voice a low rumble. "Perhaps we should have this conversation somewhere a little more private," he said with a cursory glance at the minions scattered around the workshop.

Q hesitated only briefly. "I see," he answered, inclining his head. "My office then, shall we?" He didn't wait for a reply before striding off, expecting that Bond would follow.

James closed the door behind him as he entered Q's office, watching the smaller man closely as he moved behind his desk, needlessly straightening his pens. He drew a breath. "Q-"

"If this is about the other night," he interjected, not meeting his eye, "you needn't bother. We're both adults. If certain decisions were made rashly, I believe they were mutual; and neither of us is more or less to blame. I have made the decision not to let it affect our working relationship and trust that you wish to do the same." He lifted his gaze and he was every inch MI6's Quartermaster; unshakeable calm and those cool calculating eyes.

Bond was momentarily taken aback, having not expected- well- he wasn't sure _what_ he had expected, but not this cool indifference. He inclined his head. "Of course, Quartermaster."

Q offered a small smile, his mouth ticking at the corner as it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Good. That's settled then. Is there anything else you need, 007?"

"No, Q," he answered. "Nothing else. I'll- see myself out."

"Always a pleasure, 007," said Q, walking around the desk. "You're welcome in Q-branch any time."

He extended a hand, which Bond took with only the slightest hesitation, returning the firm handshake.

"Good day, Q," he said, and he slipped from the room.

* * *

It was weeks before Bond found himself visiting Q-branch again, only ever ducking in long enough to pick up or return a kit- or what was left of it- from a mission. He'd never admit it, but he was avoiding Q like the plague. Ever since that Monday morning, Bond could hardly look Q in the eye. This formal, polite Q was somehow maddening to Bond. He missed their light banter and the way he was always tetchy about missing tech. He wasn't sure what led him into Q-branch late one Friday night, but there was nothing now that could draw him away.

004 was on a mission in Uganda which, apparently, had gone completely to shit. The whole branch was a symphony of controlled chaos as the minions scrambled to gather intel and access surveillance. And in the center of it all stood Q on the comms, directing his underlings with the motion of his hands like a conductor would his orchestra, all while he tried to talk 004 through his exit strategy.

004 was rather new to the program- still a little green and perhaps a little young. Truthfully, 007 thought he was an ass. He was too cocky, too sure of himself- and had a nasty habit of arguing with his handler at every turn. Tanner had filled him in. 004 had trusted the wrong mark, now his cover was blown and he was on the run. Q and his branch had been at it for hours, scrambling an extraction team and struggling to get 004 to the rendezvous point.

"004, the stairwell to your _right_ ," Q commanded, the sound of gunfire ringing through the comms into Q-branch. "The extraction team is five minutes out; you need to get to the roof."

 _"If I go higher, I'm a sitting duck,"_ 004 shot back.

"And if you continue on your present course, you will hit a dead end," Q countered. "Just ahead, if you take the next left, there's another stairwell-"

A shot rang out followed by a muffled curse over the comms.

"004, report."

_"I'm hit."_

"Can you get to the stairwell?" Q's voice was calm and even.

"I don't know. I-" the agent's words were cut off by a strangled sound that 007 recognized all too well.

Q reached out and switched off the overhead comms, the only sound being inputted directly to his ear. Something in Bond's chest constricted as he realized Q had done this to spare the minions from listening to the agent choke on his own blood. Q's voice remained calm. "004?"

Bond noted the tension in the line of his shoulders, the palms pressed flat against the surface of his desk. Q's eyes had fallen closed.

"004, report."

The branch was silent, staring in rapt attention at their Quartermaster. Slowly, he lifted a hand to his ear, removing the comm link and setting it on the desk. Then he uttered the words they all feared.

"Agent down." He turned to R, already at his elbow. "Pull the extraction team back. Recovery is too dangerous for them now."

She gave a nod. "Yes, sir." A moment later, she was speaking softly over the comms.

Q waited until she'd finished, hands flat on top of the desk and head bowed slightly. No one moved. No one else spoke. He lifted his head and looked out over the room, seemingly meeting the eye of each of his subordinates in turn.

"I want you all to know that you have performed admirably. There are just some things, I'm afraid, that are simply beyond our control." His back was ramrod straight as he addressed the room. He allowed the barest hint of a smile, reassuring even as some of the minions had dissolved to tears. "I am very proud of each and every one of you. Go home. Get some rest. You all have the weekend. If you require more time, please do not hesitate to let me know."

Tanner approached his elbow as the minions began the process of shutting down and one by one filed from the room. "I'll alert M," he said quietly. "I'm sure the full report can wait. Get some rest yourself, Quartermaster."

"Thank you, Tanner," said Q. "I'll just finish up here."

Tanner hesitated before giving a curt nod, heading towards the glass doors. James caught his arm as he passed.

"Don't worry," he said quietly. "I'll see the Quartermaster safely home."

Tanner looked visibly relieved. "Thank you, 007," he said. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Tanner."

Tanner slipped past him out the glass doors and Bond's gaze fixed on Q as he shut down systems and gently urged his minions home. He knew he'd be the last to leave the building. He would wait.

* * *

Q clenched his fists in an effort to mask the shaking of his hands as he slipped from the room and into his office. Once the door was safely closed behind him, the glass turned opaque so that no one could see inside, the façade finally cracked. With a strangled cry, he swept everything from the surface of his desk, sending it crashing to the floor. The desk lamp shattered on impact and his monitor cracked. When that wasn't enough, he threw the chair in front of his desk across the room, sending it crashing into a bookshelf. He removed his glasses as he all but collapsed to the floor with his back to the wall, dropping his head in his hands as his shoulders began to shake with sobs.

Q gave a start, thrashing wildly for a moment as a pair of callused hands gripped his wrists. He stilled as his gaze fell on familiar blue eyes, staring back at him with a deep level of concern. The hands maintained their hold on his wrists.

"Let go, James," he said, the demand as weak as his efforts to free his wrists.

If anything, his hold tightened, though not enough to hurt him. His grip was gentle, but firm. Wordlessly, James lowered himself the rest of the way to the floor until he sat on Q's left. Q allowed himself to be drawn into the circle of his arms, no longer caring as he buried his face in that strong chest, fingers twisting in the expensive fabric of Bond's jacket.

"So fucking stupid," he ground out as fingers carded through his hair.

He felt James shake his head, the brush of a stubbled jaw against his temple.

"No," he said, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. "There's nothing more you could've done. He should've listened to you; trusted you like the rest of us. He was a bloody fool."

"But I'm the one who had to listen to him die," he said before he could stop himself. But, _god_ , he was never going to forget that sound.

The hand in his hair stilled and James pulled back, lifting both hands to cup Q's face. Callused thumbs brushed across his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"It'll get easier," said James. "In time, you'll forget, or at least drive it far enough from your mind that it won't drive you mad. You're brilliant, Q. In everything you do. Don't let this make you lose sight of that. It's like you said; there are some things that are just beyond our control."

For a moment, Q simply stared at him, relishing the feeling of his touch. Hands that had taken more lives than he wished to count, holding him so gently.

Q surged forward, crashing their lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. He caught James by surprise, but only for a moment as he immediately responded in kind, one hand tangled in his hair.

"I want to forget," breathed Q as James trailed kisses along his jaw down to his throat. "Take me home. Put me out of my head."

James paused, tilting his head to press a lingering kiss to his mouth. He pulled back, a promise in those glacial blue eyes. "Alright."

* * *

James made good on his word. They barely made it to the bedroom before the only thing Q could think about was the feeling of those hands and that mouth and the things they _did to him_ with so little effort. He hadn't thought it possible, but it was even better than the first time. They moved together in a way that only came from having explored each other before; confident, deliberate in every touch. James seemed to know all the right places as if Q's body was a map he had memorized; all the right ways to touch and tease until he was practically begging for release.

It was worth the wait.

Afterwards, Q lay with his head pillowed on James's chest, content in the feeling of strong arms wrapped around him. He staved it off as long as he could, wanting nothing more than to savor this as long as possible, but exhaustion won out and he soon drifted off to sleep.

He awoke in the darkness, gradually becoming aware of the lack of a warm body pressed against his. He opened his eyes to find that he was curled on his side with his head on the pillow. The other half of the bed was achingly empty. He sat up slowly, feeling a tightness creep into his chest- until his gaze fell on a familiar figure.

James stood in the doorway clad in just his pants, looking hesitant for all Q had ever seen him. Their eyes met and something must have shown on Q's face because James moved forward, coming to sit on the edge of the bed.

Q tentatively scooted towards him, relieved when two strong arms encircled him and held him close. He rested his head against James's shoulder. "Stay," he said, hating how desperate he sounded even to his own ears. "Please. Just for tonight."

The arms around him held him tighter. He felt a stubbled jaw rub against his temple. "Alright."

They crawled back into bed and Q curled on his side, relaxing as an arm slipped around his middle and he felt a strong chest pressed against his back. After a moment of adjusting, they both finally settled and Q allowed his eyes to fall closed. This was all he needed, he thought. This would do. Even if it was only for tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought of making this entirely angst ridden at the end, but I guess I'm not that cruel. Instead I just decided to leave it open ended. It's up to YOUR interpretation where it goes from there! ;)
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please let me know your thoughts in the comments!


End file.
